Almost Home
by jennamajig
Summary: Radiation has a few consequences. Tag for Intruder. Chapter Two added, complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Almost Home**  
by Jennamajig

* * *

SUMMARY: Radiation has a few consequences. Tag for Intruder.

SEASON/SPOILERS: Season Two. Spoilers for Seige III and Intruder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I whumped Carson a lot lately, so now I'm giving Shep a turn and this time it's canon-based. Writing episode tags is fun:)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or anything associated with it. I'm simply borrowing, but I promise to return all in one piece. Eventually.

* * *

"Symptoms of radiation sickness include nausea and vomiting, weakness, fatigue, dehydration, hair loss, ulcerations of the esophagus, stomach and/or intestines, and bleeding from the nose, mouth, gums, rectum."

John Sheppard just stared at Beckett as the doctor listed the symptoms and searched through boxes in the Daedalus' makeshift infirmary. Currently he sat on a gurney, surrounded by various boxes of medical paraphernalia on its way to Atlantis to restock a depleted infirmary. Next to him on the gurney, McKay sat and John turned briefly to look at him.

"Hair loss?" Sheppard repeated, running a hand self-consciously across the top of his head.

"Bleeding from the rectum?" Rodney repeated and Sheppard shot him another look. Of course McKay would concentrate on the most uncomfortable symptom.

"Aye," Beckett replied. "Plus fainting spells and bruising." He scratched his forehead. "I swear I saw that box a minute ago..."

"Bruising?" McKay repeated and starting turning his arms over, seeming to search for non-existent splotches of purple. Sheppard rolled his eyes.

"You're talking worst case scenario here, right doc? I mean, McKay and I are fine. In fact, I feel great. Hungry, but I think saving an entire shipload of people builds up an appetite. Right, Rodney?"

Rodney looked up from his arm. "Yeah, hungry." He stared back at Carson. "How long until we start showing symptoms?" He held out his arm. "Because this a bruise. A definite bruise."

It was Carson's turn to roll his eyes. The physician leaned over and looked. "That bruise is at least two days old, Rodney. And you'd need more than one symptom to manifest itself in order for me to say you have radiation sickness."

John smiled in satisfaction. "See? Nothing to worry about, then. I think I'm going to see what's for dinner." He got up to leave, but Carson grabbed his arm.

"Not so fast, Ma-Colonel. You're right, you are not showing any symptoms at the moment, but this is still quite the serious matter. Radiation sickness can often be delayed, depending on the length and proximity of exposure. I'm going to need to draw some blood."

John sighed. "Fine. Poke me. What's one more time mean in the long run, right?"

Carson gathered up the supplies he needed and plopped them down on the gurney between John and Rodney. "You're actually being cooperative, Colonel? Doesn't that mean you're also volunteering to go first?"

"Does it mean you'll let me leave?"

Carson held a needle up. "No."

"Then McKay can go first."

"Hey!"

"You're the one who two minutes ago thought your bruise meant you were about to die."

McKay crossed his arms. "Now that is a blatant exaggeration. I was merely concerned. We did almost fly into a star and all."

"Almost doesn't count," he replied.

"Tell that to my sperm count why don't you," Rodney shot back.

"Why? You planning on reproducing any time-ow! What the..." John stared down and realized Beckett had managed to stick him without him even noticing. Sneaky bastard.

Beckett withdrew the needle, placed a gauze patch over the puncture and held it a moment, before folding Sheppard's arm up. "Looks like I decided you were going first, after all. Hold that there. Rodney?"

Rodney sighed and let Beckett take his arm. John held his arm up, absently rubbing the outside of his forearm. "How long do we need to stay here?"

Beckett switched out a vial full of blood from Rodney's arm. Sheppard averted his gaze from it. "Long enough for me to run a CBC and make sure you aren't showing any symptoms."

That did not answer his question. "Time, Carson. How long we looking at?"

Carson pulled the needle from Rodney's arm. "A couple of hours at least." He placed another piece of gauze over Rodney's puncture. "The ship is back on track and the virus has been cleared from the system. Colonel Caldwell and Dr. Weir have things under control so there's nothing else to do, really, but sit tight anyway."

"I need to run a diagnostic," Rodney insisted.

"Someone else can do that I think, Rodney. If they haven't already."

"I'm hungry," John said. Then he realized that, for a second, he sounded like McKay. Wonderful.

"I'll get someone to send something up here," Carson said. "But we're still two days from Atlantis. If you start showing signs of radiation sickness, it will be much easier if we catch it early and start supportive care right away."

What exactly did he mean by 'supportive?' "Supportive care? If we do get sick, there's no cure for this thing?"

Beckett shook his head. "Nothing to reverse it, no. Best way to treat it is to treat the symptoms and hope for no complications."

"Complications?" McKay squeaked and Sheppard resisted the urge to rest his forehead in his hands.

"Bone marrow depression, bacterial infection, gastrointestinal disorders. But that's only if you fall ill. Either way, I wouldn't worry too much. Your exposure doesn't appear to be life-threatening."

"How do you know that?" McKay demanded.

Beckett picked up the equipment he'd laid up and put it back into a box, along with the blood samples. "Because you'd already be dead."

"Oh." Rodney sagged. "That's a good thing, then."

"Very good," Beckett agreed. "I'm going to run some blood tests. There's another gurney set up." He nodded his head towards it where it lay a few feet away. "I'm sure you could use the rest."

Rest, ha. Since they arrived in Atlantis, sleep had become overrated. And returning to Earth to sleep on an Earth mattress didn't fix that problem. Sheppard watched Rodney head towards the other bed, mumbling.

His stomach grumbled.

First, food.

An hour later, John was bored. In fact he was so bored that he resorted to laying flat on his back on the gurney, his legs bent, tossing the cup from his dinner in the air in order to see how close he could get to the ceiling. He was proud of the fact of all the times he'd thrown it up, it had yet to hit him in the head once.

Rodney was still in his corner, scribbling on a pad Beckett had given him, communicating with someone over his head set. Probably that Asguard on board. Alien or not, that little gray thing gave him the creeps. And it wore not one stitch of clothing and that was just weird.

Beckett didn't say a word about the blood tests, but John figured no news was going news and threw his cup up into the air again. His promotion earned him the right to keep his military commander title, yet a mere civilian with an M.D. after his name could ground him with a single word. Beckett had authority over everyone when it came to medical matters. He could ground Elizabeth if he deemed it necessary. And while Sheppard valued Carson's opinion - he didn't trust any other doctor on Atlantis, frankly - the Scot could be a tad overprotective when it came down to it.

Though he supposed it was better than losing his hair.

If he was honest with himself, the boredom didn't really bother him. It was only a couple of hours after all. But doing nothing let his mind wander and no matter what, his thoughts always returned to the same place.

The same person.

Ford was out there. Not dead; not by a long shot if the determination in his face as he piloted that jumper was any indication. He couldn't face Ford's grandparents and was secretly glad he didn't. Ford's cousin was right, what he could tell them offered them nothing but endless worry. The military hadn't condemned Ford. Yet, anyway. Perhaps he had. Ford's cousin's words stung. Trust was a powerful word and he took it pretty seriously. But missing in action was just as horrid a phrase, and it carried intense reactions. There was no closure. No way for his family to move on.

No way for him to move on. Every time he stepped through that gate, he'd be keeping one eye out for the kid. He'd hope Beckett would figure out a sure fire way to help him and then he'd try his best to get Ford to trust in him again and convince him to come home.

Home to Atlantis.

Home was a funny word. He hadn't put that tag on a place in a long time and the last location he figured would earn it would be a flying city in another solar system. Perhaps, that's why Ford's situation hurt so hard. Atlantis was his home.

His team was his family.

The military mind at its best. He tossed the cup up again and caught it easily in his hands. Going back to Earth hadn't done anything but shown him he belonged here. He'd done something deemed unprofessional enough by the U.S. Airforce to earn him a black mark in his record and a stint flying helicopters in Antarctica all to sit on fancy alien chair and find a city that welcomed him.

The cup came crashing down in his face.

He needed to stop thinking. His head hurt. He sighed and flexed his legs out straight and started to push himself up on his elbow.

That's when the room started spinning.

* * *

The IV drip in the back of his hand dripped one drop at a time into his veins. He watched it, eyes bleary, and willed it to help him.

John felt like crap. It all started hitting him at once.

Fatigue.

Weakness.

Loss of appetite.

Nausea and vomiting.

The latter had been especially fun and Beckett had managed to procure a basin from among his materials just in time. He'd thankfully been on his way to talk to Sheppard when John realized sitting up was not such a good idea.

Next to him, Beckett adjusted the drip. "How's the nausea?" he asked.

John swallowed. "Um, not so great," he admitted.

Beckett frowned, and John figured he'd done something wrong by being so honest. But he didn't exactly want to throw up again. Beckett stepped aside and returned with a syringe.

"Compazine," he told Sheppard as he swabbed the IV port and injected the drug. "It'll make you a wee bit sleepy, but it should help settle your stomach."

John nodded. "What about..." He trailed off. What was coming out the other end was something he didn't really want to admit or discuss.

Carson gave him a sympathetic smile. "It should help a little, but I can't promise anything, I'm afraid."

Wonderful. He closed his eyes. "How's McKay?"

"He has some mild symptoms, but they seem to be abating with the help of medication. He was having an argument with that Asguard, Hermiod, via the com link last time I checked on him."

"Sounds like he got off easy." John turned his head into the pillow as his stomach started cramping again. "This sucks," he groaned when the worst had passed. "How much longer?"

"There's no real way to tell, but most of your symptoms should abate in twenty-four to forty-eight hours, I believe."

"Just in time to get to Atlantis, then, huh?" He looked up at the ceiling.

"Aye, although you will most likely feel fatigued for a few weeks. Your red blood cell count is down."

He wondered if he should be worried about that fact. All the complication Beckett mentioned earlier flooded his brain. "What does that mean?"

"That you're sick," Beckett told him. "It should improve as your symptoms do. You'll need fairly regular blood tests for the next few weeks to check on its progress."

"Weeks? That's a lot of needle sticks, doc." He picked at the tape holding his IV needle in place. Beckett always wanted to stick him with sharp pointy objects, it seemed.

"I know. But it's necessary. If it makes you feel any better, Rodney will be going through the same thing." Beckett gently pulled Sheppard's hands before his could do any damage.

"It does, a little. Why isn't he as sick?"

"Everyone's body handles radiation differently. It's why some cancer patients get violently ill from treatment while others simply get tired. It's a bit of a medical mystery. You're rather lucky you're not dead, all things considered."

"I guess so." He sure didn't feel lucky. He wondered if he'd find clumps on his hair on the pillow next. He self-consciously tugged at a strand hanging into his forehead.

Carson grinned. "It's all there, Colonel. I wouldn't worry. Hair loss only happens in extreme cases and your blood work indicates yours isn't such a case. In forty-eight hours, you'll feel a lot better."

"I sure as hell hope so because I plan on being able to walk back into Atlantis, not fall on my face in the gateroom."

Beckett laughed. "Well, we'll see about that one."

Oh, he was definitely walking. He yawned. Beckett adjusted the blanket. "That's probably the Compazine. You should get rest."

He blinked back sleepy eyes. "How far are we from home?"

"Still at least thirty-six to forty hours, I'm told."

"Good," he mumbled as his eyes started to close. "There's no place like home."

"Aye," Carson agreed.

Sheppard closed his eyes and thought about Atlantis, Ford, and the comforts of home.

Trust or not, he wasn't giving up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Almost Home**, Part Two  
by Jennamajig

* * *

SUMMARY: Radiation has a few consequences. Tag for Intruder. Part Two added

SEASON/SPOILERS: Season Two. Spoilers for Seige III and Intruder.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had no plan to add to this fic. In fact, I considered it a stand-alone. But a few people asked and the muse felt inspired. So here it is. More Sheppard whumping abounds.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or anything associated with it. I'm simply borrowing, but I promise to return all in one piece. Eventually.

* * *

Intelligence reports.

A whole lot of words that did not offer him a shred of evidence about the whereabouts of Lieutenant Ford.

Teyla had told him this, but John hoped there was something – anything – that might be any sort of a clue. Something she missed, something someone else missed. But Teyla was thorough; Ford was still a mystery.

He shifted his eyes from the computer screen and yawned. He was wiped out. Beckett had let him walk off the Daedalus, yes, but not before telling him to get some rest and report to the infirmary for blood tests that evening. The Scot had said the last results looked better, but that he'd be feeling run down for the next week or so.

Run down was an understatement to the exhaustion he felt as he leaned back in his chair. Just the walk off the Daedalus and to his quarters made him fell like he'd run a marathon. He wondered if McKay had a similar problem and almost hoped he did. Rodney's symptoms had been far less severe and he'd been rid of the nausea after the first twelve hours. Instead, he'd begun inspecting every inch of his skin for burns and called Beckett over every two minutes to examine a new patch he thought looked red.

"Can it, McKay," John had muttered from his own bed, where he was curled up hopping to curb his stomach's need to try and escape his body. "You're fine. "

"Fine? Colonel, I'm starting to peel here. Carson, tell him this is not a good thing," Rodney had shot back.

Beckett had simply sighed. "It's normal, Rodney. You have some slight sunburn. You just need lotion, that's all."

Thankfully, lotion had satisfied McKay for a while, Sheppard's vomiting stopped, and Atlantis finally came into view.

Home sweet home.

John shook his head to clear it, then yawned yet again. He stared at his bed. It was only across the room, still it seemed like it might as well be miles away. His eyes were drooping.

I'll just rest right here, he thought and lowered his head down onto his desk.

"Colonel? "

John eyes snapped open and he bolted up. "Huh?" The remnants of sleep still filled his brain, making it hard to focus on the person who obviously made their way unannounced into his room. He shook his head, but it didn't help. If anything, it made him dizzy. He felt himself lilting a bit to the right.

"Easy now." Hands were on his shoulder, pushing him back upright. He turned and squinted.

"Beckett? "

"Aye. You were supposed to come see me this evening. When you didn't show, I decided to come to you." The physician had genuine concern in his eyes.

"Sorry," John told him, wiping his face. "I fell asleep. "

"I see that." Beckett held up a basket and the first thing Sheppard saw sticking out of it was a needle. " I just need to draw some blood and then you can go back to sleep. In your bed, preferably. "

"I can do that, " he agreed, still sluggish and not liking it at all. He felt Beckett take his hand and a needle eventually puncture a vein in the crook of his arm, but seemed a bit removed from it. Like he was drugged, almost. He saw Carson remove the last vial and the needle before placing a cotton ball over the site and bending John's arm up.

"All right, then. All done. I'll just see you to your bed, Colonel, and be on my way." He offered John a hand up.

Sheppard brushed it off. "I can see myself to my own bed perfectly fine." Okay, he was still sleepy, but the bed was only a few feet away. Not big deal. He stood up.

And crumpled down. He saw Carson's eyes go wide and the doctor reach out –

Then black.

* * *

He woke up flat on his back blinking up a ceiling. Surprisingly, it wasn't the infirmary's. He heard someone talking and turned slightly to see Beckett having a conversation on his radio.

" Doc?" John winced at how rusty his voice sounded. And he tasted something metallic. He reached up to his lip and touched it gently. When he drew his fingers back, he saw red.

Great. He started to push himself up.

"Not so fast, Colonel." Beckett's hands were pushing him back down.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "Just a little dizzy."

"You fainted," Beckett informed. "You've been out nearly five minutes. I've radioed for a litter and we'll need to run some more tests."

"More tests? You said the last ones were fine. And I did not faint. McKay faints. I just pass out gracefully. "

Carson just gave him a look and John thought the doctor might even be trying to hold back a smile. " I said the last tests were all right considering." He took a moment to inspect John's lip. "Still bleeding, I see. "

"Yeah, " John muttered. "That mean anything? "

"Maybe." Beckett was vague and when more medical personal arrived, John didn't get anything more from the man.

More ceiling. This time the all too familiar Atlantis infirmary view.

John was propped up on a bed contemplating his situation and anything else that filtered through his brain. It was deja vu all over again, bringing him back to the clam before the storm aboard the Daedalus. He didn't relish puking again, nor did he enjoy reliving his own feelings of failure when it came to Ford.

Beckett hadn't stuck an IV in him yet, thankfully, although he did make John change into a pair of scrubs and strapped one of those automatic blood pressure things to John's arm. Someone came and took more blood.

In addition, he was still dizzy, his lip was still bleeding, and he'd discovered he was now cold as well. He didn't think any of those things were good.

Finally Carson made an appearance at his bedside and John tried reading his face. He didn't look happy, that was for sure.

"You're having a hemolytic crisis. You blood count keeps dropping since we got you here and your blood cell count is rather low. "

John blinked. " Um, English, doc."

Carson gave him a small smile. "Sorry, son. You're anemic. "

"Okay," John said slowly. "Is that why I passed out? "

"Aye. And why you're cold and your lip hasn't stopped bleeding. Your platelet count's affected, too, and that causes your blood not to clot correctly. "

"That doesn't sound good. Is this because of the radiation?" He knew he and McKay had a close call, but he figured the worst was over and Beckett had appeared to confirm that fact.

"Most likely. "

"Okay. So what happens? I thought you said the worst was over. "

"I did," Beckett replied. "It's possible that it has just taken some time for the radiation's effect to show up in your blood work. We'll do a transfusion to see if we can't correct the problem. "

"A blood transfusion? That should fix it? "

"Hopefully." Beckett sounded far too unsure for his liking. "You'll need to stay in the infirmary for a bit so we can test your blood to make sure it remedies the radiation's effects. "

"What if it doesn't?"

"It should. " Beckett patted his shoulder. "You're alive, Colonel. This is just a minor setback. We'll just run the transfusion though and take another look. Don't think about it. "

Don't think about it? Great advice, John thought as he watched the doctor walk away. How could he not think about it?

Easy. Think about other things. Atlantis, home, the fact that he managed to smuggle a couple of six packs aboard the Daedulas.

Ford.

No, he didn't want to go there.

Yet.

He wasn't giving up. Aiden was still out there, though he was now a little different from the man that had served on Sheppard's team for the past year. The twenty-five year old couldn't name a thing to save his life, but could always tell a good story around the fire on a planet that was too cold and gloomy for anyone's tastes. Even McKay quit complaining and listened.

Ford trusted him. Ford was still just a kid. Yet, he'd been though the gate far more times than Sheppard had; he'd been stationed at Stargate Command prior to Antarctica. Ford could take charge when needed and had that sense of wonderment and fearlessness that being in your twenties brought. The feeling that you could conquer the world if you wanted, too.

That feeling still existed, but Ford had a much different purpose in which to apply it.

Ford had trusted him.

/ "You know, Aiden mentioned you in that tape message he sent. He said you were a good man; that he trusted you with his life. You tell me, Colonel - was that trust misplaced?" /

"Colonel?"

John blinked. A nurse was at his bedside, IV paraphernalia in hand.

"I need to get an IV started for the transfusion."

Right, blood transfusion. Radiation. Almost dying, yet again. Hell, he could still die since this radiation sickness was sticking around more than he'd like it to.

Ford did trust him.

But would he still think that the next time John managed to track him down? Ford thought everyone was afraid of him. John couldn't say they weren't. Beckett was petrified and Sheppard didn't really blame him.

But Ford was still in there. No matter what anyone told him.

He grimaced when the nurses drove the IV needle home. Someone else showed up with a bag of blood. She smiled and hooked it up.

"I'm just going to stay a few minutes and make sure you'd don't have a reaction."

"A reaction?" What exactly did she mean by that?

"It rarely happens," another voice responded and Sheppard looked up to see Beckett, his hands shoved inside his lab coat pockets. "I'll sit with him, Rachel. Why don't you try and track down Dr. McKay for me? He should have been by an hour ago. "

The nurse nodded and walked off.

"McKay's late? Think he's having the same problem?" McKay got the same dose of radiation and John found he didn't really like being alone in his misery, even if Rodney complained the entire time.

Beckett should his head. "Probably not. His blood work was looking much better than yours. Rodney just hates needles. I gather he's hoping I've forgotten." He gave John's IV a look before settling down in the chair positioned next to the bed. "How are you feeling, Colonel? "

John sighed. "Not so great, apparently. "

Carson smiled. "It'll get better soon. And at least you didn't fall on your face in the control room. "

John nodded. " Yeah ..."

"Are you all right?" There was a different type of concern in Beckett's voice this time.

"You just asked that question, doc. And surprisingly, I gave you an honest answer. "

"I wasn't talking about physically," Beckett said. "I heard you visited Lieutenant Ford's cousin while we were back on Earth. "

"Who told you that? "

"Elizabeth. " He paused a moment. "And Rodney. They were concerned. "

"Concerned?" John was touched, yet confused. "Concerned about what? "

"It isn't your fault, Colonel. That enzyme ..." Carson trailed off. "I had hoped he'd stay in the infirmary. "

John shook his head. "If it isn't my fault, it sure as hell isn't yours, Carson." The use of Beckett's first name didn't go unnoticed. John didn't use it often, despite the fact that Beckett had told him he could.

"Aye, I know," Beckett agreed. "I suppose it's human nature to feel guilty for actions that you have no control over. "

Sheppard swallowed. He did feel guilty. Felt he betrayed Ford, chased him with a gun and shot at him, betrayed him.

Made Ford believe he didn't trust him anymore, even.

That's what bothered him most of all.

"I suppose it is, " John muttered.

"Did you think you'll ever find him? "

"I have too," John replied without a thought. It was never a question of if in his eyes, it was a question of when, a question of how. How to repair broken trusts. How to help his friend. "Do you think you can help him?"

Beckett was quiet a moment. "I can try," he said, softly. "Medicine can only do so much. The longer he's on the enzyme ...well, it's not something I have an endless supply of in the back room. "

No, he supposed Beckett didn't. And if Ford couldn't be weaned off the stuff well, John didn't like thinking about it. He opened his mouth to reply when Rachel came back, dragging a displeased Rodney McKay with her.

"Found him, " she said to Carson with a smirk.

"Dragged me is more like it," Rodney muttered. "She has nails!"

"You were due to see me over an hour ago," Beckett said, not commenting on his nurse's methods. John had to give her credit – she had gotten McKay here after all.

"But I'm fine, " McKay insisted. "It's the Major— "

"Colonel," John corrected. It was the one thing he was proud of and Rodney better get used to it.

"Fine, the Colonel's the one that's fainting. "

"Passing out, " John insisted.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Carson tells me faint is the proper voodoo term, so if it's in my chart, it's in yours, too." He looked back at Beckett. "You keep saying I'm fine, despite the fact that I'm peeling. I'm finally listening to you. "

Beckett gave him a small smile. "Nice try, Rodney. I'll still need to take some blood. "

"More?" Rodney complained. "I'll have none left."

"You'll have plenty." Carson pushed himself out of the chair. "Keep the Colonel company. I'll go get what I need."

"Vampire, " McKay muttered under his breath as the doctor walked away.

"I heard that!" Carson called over his shoulder.

"Of course." McKay sat down in the chair Beckett had vacated. "So, you okay?"

"You're asking about my well-being, Rodney?"

Rodney looked insulted a moment. "I care."

"I'm okay. At least, Beckett thinks I will be. Hopefully. "

"Like I said. Voodoo," Rodney replied. They lapsed into silence a moment before Sheppard spoke.

"So... Beckett says you and Elizabeth told him I went to visit Ford's family. "

An expression that John couldn't discern crossed Rodney's face. "Oh, he did?"

Sheppard nodded. "Yep."

"Oh."

"Thanks."

"For what?"

John didn't answer and Beckett reappeared with the materials needed to draw Rodney's blood.

Two days later, John had a clean bill of health. He was still tired and Beckett had told him it could be another week before he was completely released back to duty, but John could deal with that. He looked forward to it.

He was home. Atlantis was home. He had friends that he cared about and that cared about him.

And he had work to do. Trust to regain.

He still wasn't giving up.

After all, Ford remembered that John liked turkey sandwiches. And he needed someone around that knew such a fact.


End file.
